I always had a feeling that Dad never really loved me. When I was younger, Mom was the one who spent all of her time with me; it even reached the point where people thought she was a single mother. Anytime my dad had to put any effort into me, it seemed like an issue.
From the parent-teacher conferences, musical recitals, and even my fifteenth birthday, he showed no interest, if he even decided to show up at all.
With the approaching storm, it really felt like he didn’t care about me.
The rain started coming down heavier than before, tapping violently against my bedroom window; everything was a blur and mixed together behind the glass.
Somehow, through the blurry window, the image of my dad’s face was clearly coming into view. His words replayed over in my head when his face was in sight.
I rolled over in bed to look away, “Fuck you dad.” His words in my mind faded out and was replaced with the sound of a car starting up. With a rising urge, I got out of bed and headed for the garage, “And fuck that car.”
Copyright © 2019 by Luka Tatsujo